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Stockton, Frank Richard, 1834-1902

"The Girl at Cobhurst"

It
was a joy like that of listening to a party of dinner guests, who were
eating her favorite ice. With intense impatience she had awaited the
appearance of Cicely from the doctor's office; and, having drawn her to
one side, she hastily imparted her sentiments.
"It's a shabby gig, Miss Cicely," she said, "such as the farmers use in
the old country, but it's his own, and not hired, and the big house is
his own, and all the broad acres. And he's a gentleman from head to heel,
living on his own estate, and as fine a built man as ever rode in the
Queen's army. Oh, Miss Cicely, your star is at the top of the heavens
this time, and I want you to let me know if there is anything you want in
the way of hats or wraps or clothes, or anything of that kind. It
doesn't make the least difference to me, you know, just now, and we'll
settle it all after a while. It is the Christian duty for every young
lady to look the smartest, especially at a time like this."
Cicely, her face flushed, drew herself away.
"La Fleur," she said, speaking quickly and in a low voice, "you ought to
be ashamed of yourself.


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